“Very Nearly an Armful!”

volume 9 issue 18/2020 “VERY NEARLY AN ARMFUL!” BRITISH POST-WAR COMEDY AND THE NHS Matt Melia Kingston University, UK [email protected] Abstract: While much has been written on post war British film and television comedy, there has been no critical focus on one of its key sub-genres – the medical comedy. This article aims to fill (at least some) of the gap in this scholarship. It chooses to focus on how several key medical comedies engaged the politics and ideological tensions of the fledgling National Health Service from the late 1950s to the 1980s. It will focus on the microcosmic representation of medical architectures and environments and consider how they provide spaces for political and ideological debate. Keywords: National Health Service, comedy, film, television, Britain, medical, environment, design, architecture 1 Introduction After the formation of the Welfare State in 1948 and the birth of the National Health Service (henceforth NHS), post war film and broadcast comedy in the UK discovered a whole new set of comic spaces: a set of environments and architectures in which the political and ideological tensions of the era could be interrogated and debates over post-war consensus; socialism and public service versus conservatism and private enterprise, race and immigration, national health and identity could take place. Blood donor clinics, doctor’s surgeries and waiting rooms; operating theatres and hospital wards, even the medicalised domestic space all served as backdrops for satirising and lampooning the conservative (medical) old guard, class aspiration and tension, the myth of consensus and the supposedly reassuring presence of a new utopian, modern, progressive and socialist healthcare system. Despite the wealth of literature dealing with British post war comedy and light entertainment,1 there has been surprisingly little critical attention paid to what I shall term ‘NHS Comedy’ as a sub-genre of British comic culture, particularly given the ubiquity some of its more celebrated examples, including the much revered episode of Hancock, ‘The Blood Donor’;2 the Doctor film series3 (made for the Rank organisation between 1954 and 1970) or the four medical Carry On series of films:4 Carry On Nurse,5 Carry On Doctor,6 Carry On Again Doctor7 and Carry on Matron.8 There has, of course, been critical discussion of these texts within broader critical and historical studies of British film and TV comedy but none which deal explicitly with the medicalisation of British comedy and the depicted NHS environments, spaces and architectures therein, as this study hopes to do.9 This is an existing gap in the scholarship around both UK film and TV entertainment and British health care history. While I do not claim to offer a 1 Matt Melia, “Very Nearly an Armful!” comprehensive discussion and overview of all post war medical comedies, or to provide yet another overview of the comedy zeitgeist of the post war years, I do wish to single out a selection of key (even ubiquitous) texts, and to re-consider them in terms of their presentation of these environments and to illustrate the sometimes conflicting ways that the NHS has been represented through them. 2 Tensions in the NHS From the outset, the NHS, and more broadly the welfare state, was mired in ideological tension and its utopian status retroactively romanticised. In his article, “Socialism and the British National Health Service”, historian Martin Powell observes that while the NHS was ostensibly a socialist project and the central example of the post-war consensus at work – as part of the 1945 Labour government’s utopian project for building a new classless society for post-World War II Britain – it did not exist within a “self-proclaimed socialist society”.10 It was, as Powell claims, a “socialist island in a capitalist sea”.11 Even when Clement Atlee’s government had won a landmark victory in 1945, it was nevertheless surrounded by a residual sense of conservatism, cynicism and scepticism. In his article, “Tony Hancock and the Cultural Landscapes of Post War Britain”, David Wall reminds us, however, that from the early 1950s a growing popular belief had taken root in a social consensus, epitomised by the NHS and more broadly the welfare state; a belief in a social contract and a reciprocally beneficial system that one paid (nominally and painlessly) into and which would be to the greater benefit of all, free at the point of use. allW also suggests that despite the utopian socialist romance that Britain in the 1950s “was a place of consolidation and consensus”12 and the very idea of consensus was, in fact a myth, as post war British society was riven with class, racial and economic division from the start. Historians Ben Pimlott, Dennis Kavanagh and Peter Morris support this argument suggesting the myth of consensus was a “mirage, an illusion which rapidly fades the closer one gets to it”.13 Nevertheless, the NHS came to embody a new modern and progressive outlook, a leap from the past into the present signified by the transformation of old Victorian hospitals into gleaming, modern NHS hospitals - a visual trope which recurs across (and is frequently satirised by) the medical comedy from the early 1950s and in which the past and the present are thrown into ideological and historical tension. Doctor in the House,14 for example, begins with the arrival of a set of new medical students at the London teaching hospital, St Swithin’s (the exterior shots are of University College London, built in 1826) [Figure 1]. An early exchange foregrounds the shift: the film opens with its protagonist, trainee doctor and medical student Simon Sparrow (Dirk Bogarde) asking directions of an elderly doctor who is seen leaving the hospital, “I’m a new medical student” he proclaims, “I was just wondering where I should go?”, “and I’m a very old doctor” comes the response, “Take my advice – straight into another profession”. Later, in addressing (and dressing down) the new students, the Dean (Geoffrey Keen), refers to Charles Dickens’ description of medical students as a “parcel of lazy, idle fellars who are always also smoking, drinking and lounging”.15 These are senior representatives of a medical profession, rooted in the Victorian past and in pre-war Victorian values; personifications of both their era and the Victorian hospital environments and architectures, which they inhabit and are being displaced from by a new, vibrant and seemingly unorthodox set of (younger) doctors and professionals. This new blood (despite their sometimes callow and caddish ways) offers a reassuring personification of a modern and egalitarian NHS in the hands of a new breed of daring young medics. During one key sequence, for instance, Sparrow is called out to deliver a baby to a working class, single mother on Christmas Eve – he is the living embodiment of the welfare state in action and a modern egalitarian medical profession that is there to cater to everyone, “from cradle to grave”.16 We might note here also that St Swithin, an English saint (and patron saint of Winchester Cathedral) is one known for posthumous miracles and to whom one might pray in the event of a drought. That the hospital itself in Doctor in The House is named after St Swithin may be seen to connote the death of a medical system rooted in the Victorian era with Victorian values and the birth of a new “miraculous” era of health care emerging out of the drought of austerity. This contrast is further illustrated by a set of further (cognitively dissonant) interior shots denoting a bright clean, bustling modern hospital interior [Figure 2] full of young medics (both male and female). 2 Matt Melia, “Very Nearly an Armful!” Figures 1 and 2. Doctor In The House (UK, 1964), Screengrab St Swithin’s exterior [00:01:56] and interior [00:02:23] (Copyright: Carlton Visual Entertainment). David Kynaston illustrates how the organisational structure or architecture of the new NHS was comprised of several key building blocks (or construction materials): a) it was “Free [at the point of use] and [provided] universal”17 healthcare for all; b) it was paid for through taxation; c) hospitals were nationalised; d) that most hospitals would be run by a three pronged structure of regional boards, executive councils (overseeing GPs, dentists and opticians) and local authorities;18 and e) while consultants where still able to practice privately and work for the NHS, the same was not true for GPs who “would no longer be allowed to buy and sell practices but would not be put on a full time salary basis (allowing patients to move between doctors).”19 Although viewed by many as decisive and progressive sea-change in British society and the national health, the NHS was not, however, universally welcomed. This “most socialist of the 1945 Labour governments welfare reforms”20 was regarded with scepticism and cynicism by many – particularly portions of the middle classes who took a dim view of working class patients seemingly getting something for nothing. General practitioners were also apprehensive of the system’s new administration and the role played in it by local authorities - particularly now their income (especially medical doctors in more affluent areas) was reduced (even if it meant those previously unable to afford health care and the attention of a doctor could now be more easily treated). From its inception the NHS had a strong presence in visual screen culture with early recruitment films such as Life in Her Hands, a 55 minute film funded by the Crown Film Unit and starring Kathleen Byron.21 It was intended to draw young women to the work within the fledgling NHS within the nursing profession.

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